Somewhere Norman Rockwell Is Rolling In His Grave
by Collegekid2006
Summary: It's Thanksgiving at the Spencer house. Everyone is there. Madeline...Henry...Shawn...Grandpa...Jack...Oh, the possibilities.
1. Chapter 1

"I don't know why you had to invite him to dinner." Henry grumbled, dumping an armload of peeled potatoes into the sink and turning the water on full blast.

"Because he's your brother." Madeline laughed, rolling her eyes as she opened the oven and slid the turkey inside. "And your dad's already coming. _And_ you haven't seen him in two years. _And_ it's Thanksgiving."

"But every time he breezes into town, it takes me a month to get Shawn off his treasure hunting kick." Henry complained. "Last time, he and Gus spent a week digging up the beach. He didn't even do his chores!"

"He just wants to be like Jack." Madeline shrugged, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Can you blame him? Not every family has a real treasure hunter."

"What's so great about treasure hunting?"

Madeline stared at him for a moment in bemused bewilderment.

"Were you _ever_ a ten year old boy?" She asked, shaking her head. "Or were you just born a thirty-two year old grump?"

Before Henry could respond, there was a knock at the front door.

"Anyone here?" A voice called.

"That's Jack." Madeline said, shooting Henry a warning look as she crossed into the dining room to check the place settings. "Be nice. You haven't seen him in two years."

"I know how long it's been, Mad." Henry muttered.

"Hey, Big Brother!" Jack grinned, coming into the kitchen.

"Hi, Jackie." Henry mumbled, taking the now soaked potatoes out of the sink and dumping them in a pot. "Where's Dad?"

"He's on his way."

Henry grunted and turned the stove on, not saying anything else.

"Aren't you even going to ask me about South America?" Jack asked after a prolonged moment of silence.

"Oh, is that where you've been?" Henry snapped sarcastically, turning to face his brother. "I wouldn't know. I haven't heard from you in two years, Jackie. Not even a damn post card."

Jack rolled his eyes, but his face immediately lit up when Madeline came back in from the dining room.

"There's the most beautiful woman in the world with the worst taste in Spencers!" He grinned, giving her a giant, playful hug. "Seriously, Mad. When are you going to come to your senses and dump my big brother and run away with me?"

"As fun as getting shot at in Ecuador with you would be," Madeline laughed, returning the hug and going back to the stove. "I think I'll pass, Jack."

"I've never been shot at in Ecuador." Jack protested, snorting as if the very idea was ridiculous. "Poison darts, maybe…Hey! Where's the kid?" He asked suddenly, looking around. "Didn't you used to have a kid stashed around here somewhere?"

Henry crossed to the doorway and went to the bottom of the stairs.

"Shawn!" He called up them. "Come on down! Uncle Jack's here!"

Not even two seconds later, there came the clatter of excited ten year old feet thundering down the stairs.

"Uncle Jack!" Shawn shouted gleefully, slipping and sliding across the kitchen floor in bare feet. "What'd ya bring me?"

"Shawn." Henry growled.

Shawn stopped dead in his tracks, glancing up at his father.

"Uh…I mean…how was your trip?" He corrected himself quickly, clearing his throat.

"Lay off him, Henry." Jack laughed, reaching into his pocket. "He's pragmatic. I respect that."

He pulled out a small, shiny copper coin and tossed it across the room.

"That's a 1942 Wheat Penny." He told his nephew, his eyes sparkling. "It's worth at least double its face value."

"Its face value is one cent, Jack." Henry rolled his eyes.

Jack glanced up at him, clearly not understanding his brother's point.

"So?"

"It's awesome!" Shawn gasped, holding it up to the light. "Thanks, Uncle Jack."

"No problem, Kid." Jack grinned, mussing Shawn's hair. "What are uncles for?"

"Apparently, disappearing for years at a time without so much a phone call." Henry grunted, heading into the dining room.

Jack rolled his eyes and glanced over at Madeline.

"Is he always like this, or did I catch him on a good day?"

"He's your brother." Madeline shrugged. "You should have sent a post card."

"I was kind of busy getting shot at in Bolivia."

"I thought you never got shot at in Bolivia."

"No…" Jack shook his head, grinning. "I've never been shot at in Ecuador. Bolivia is a completely different story."


	2. Chapter 2

"What happened in Bolivia?" Shawn asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Jack grinned broadly, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling as his voice grew low and ominous.

"I was being hunted by these guys who wanted to kill me…" he began, slowly drawing his nephew into the story with each word. "Me and my partner were trapped in a cave…we were surrounded on all sides…they were firing at us…"

"For God's sake, Jack." Henry rolled his eyes. "That's _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid._"

Jack glanced up at him, raising a single eyebrow.

"You think Butch and Sundance are the only people to ever get cornered in a cave in Bolivia?"

"I think you'd better stop filling my son's head with that crap." Henry returned, turning to Shawn.

"Go wash your hands." He ordered.

"But dinner's not ready yet." Shawn argued. "And I want to hear Uncle Jack's story!"

"Shawn."

"Fine." Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly stomped out of the room.

"Don't do that, Jackie." Henry said when he was sure Shawn was out of earshot.

"Don't do what?" Jack laughed, leaning back in his chair as he dropped his hat on the table. "Don't tell my nephew stories?"

"Don't make running around South America, staying one step ahead of the law and half a step ahead of pissed-off ex-partners sound glamorous!"

"I don't think he has to try too hard to do _that_, Henry." Madeline laughed. "Shawn loves his stories."

"And some of them are even true!" Jack added. "I only make up the ones that didn't really happen."

Henry rolled his eyes as there was yet another knock on the front door.

"Henry! Madeline! Anyone home?" A voice called.

"In the kitchen, Dad." Henry called back, still glaring at his little brother.

Grandpa entered a moment later.

"Hey, Dad." Jack greeted from his chair. "Will you tell Supercop here to lay off?"

"You told _Dad_ on me?" Henry snorted, staring at his brother disbelievingly. "Really, Jackie?"

"Well, you didn't leave me much choice, did you?" Jack shot back. "I've only been here five minutes and you're already jumping down my throat!"

Grandpa sighed and rolled his eyes, looking over at Madeline.

"What are they fighting about now?" He asked with a weary groan.

"I don't know." Madeline shrugged. "I stopped trying to keep up with them about five minutes ago…if you try really hard, you can kind of tune them out. Almost."

"If you boys can't play nice," Grandpa warned seriously, not about to waste his effort trying to get to the bottom of the argument. "You won't get any dessert."

"It's my damn house, Dad." Henry pointed out. "And my dessert."

"You still have to play nice."

"Just stop putting ideas in Shawn's head." Henry ordered, turning his gaze back on his brother.

"What do you want him to have in his head?" Jack snorted. "Ideas are a good thing, Henry."

"Not when they make Shawn want to go to South America!" Henry shouted, surprising everyone with the virulence of his response.

For a moment, no one replied to the outburst.

There just didn't seem to be anything to say.

"I don't want him to go to South America." Henry said finally. "I don't want him disappearing off the face of the earth. I don't want him getting shot at in Bolivia because he tried to pull a fast one on the wrong person. I don't want to go two years without knowing where the hell he is. So just stop putting those damn ideas into his head, Jackie!"

Jack blinked, looking up at his brother.

"You still call me Jackie." He mumbled, almost accusingly.

"So what?" Henry grunted, taking a seat at the table.

"So…no one else has called me that since I was six. Not even Dad."

Henry just shrugged.

"No one else is your big brother."


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay…my hands are clean." Shawn sighed, coming back into the kitchen. "_Now _can I listen to Uncle Jack's story?"

He looked up at his grandfather, his eyes sparkling.

"You missed it, Grandpa! Uncle Jack was in a cave in Bolivia and people were shooting at him! He was trapped!"

"Sounds like _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid…_" Grandpa murmured.

"Okay." Jack rolled his eyes. "Butch and Sundance don't own the copyright to every Bolivian cave story. This was totally different! For starters, I got out alive…barely." He added ominously.

"What'd you do?" Shawn gasped, falling into a kitchen chair.

Jack leaned forward, absolutely reveling in the six eyes that were watching his every move.

He glanced up at Henry, who had moved back to the stove and was absently poking at something simmering in a pot while he glared at his little brother.

For just the briefest of moments, Jack seemed to hesitate.

"Actually, Kid." He cleared his throat finally, leaning back thoughtfully and draping his arm over the back of his chair. "It's not that interesting a story."

"Really?" Shawn blinked, sounding disappointed.

"No…" Jack grinned, winking at his nephew. "I'm lying. It's an awesome story. But wouldn't you rather hear about your dad's treasure hunting adventures?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room were turned on Henry, who had dropped the wooden spoon he was holding.

"Jack." He growled warningly, but he already knew it wasn't going to do him any good.

Not this time.

Jack was beaming, and even Grandpa had started to chuckle.

"I forgot about that." He laughed, slapping his knee. "Henry's treasure hunting days!"

"You were a treasure hunter, Dad?" Shawn gasped, his eyes glowing with pride at his father.

"No!" Henry snapped, his ears burning.

"Now wait a minute…" Madeline laughed, closing the oven door as she finished basting the bird. "I thought Jack was the treasure hunter in the family."

"He is!"

"This was before I was even born." Jack explained. "In fact, Henry's treasure hunting shovel was my first treasure hunting shovel. I used it until I lost it on a dig in Mexico…well, I didn't lose it as much as I had to leave it behind when one of my partners somehow got the mistaken impression we were splitting the loot 50/50…"

"Jack." Grandpa grunted. "We're talking about Henry."

"Oh. Right." Jack grinned at his big brother. "Henry's treasure hunting days."

"It wasn't _days_." Henry snapped, finally giving up and taking a seat at the table next to his son. "It was _one_ day. And it wasn't my shovel. It was Dad's. I just borrowed it. _And_ I brought it back when I was done." He added pointedly.

"Yeah, Henry." Jack rolled his eyes. "We know. You always return everything you borrow in a timely manner."

"What were you hunting for?" Shawn asked. "Pirate gold?"

"Yeah, Henry." Madeline chimed in, laughing as she leaned against the counter. "Were you hunting for pirate gold? And here I thought you were never a ten year old boy."

"I was nine." Henry informed her. "And I wasn't hunting for pirate gold."

"What _were_ you hunting for?" Shawn demanded, bouncing up and down in his seat, barely able to contain his excitement.

"I was reading about a bank robbery in the newspaper…"

"I thought you were nine." Madeline interrupted him.

"I was."

Grandpa rolled his eyes and nodded in confirmation.

"I _tried_ to get him to read something else…joke books or something normal…but all he wanted to read was newspapers…I don't think he even read the funnies."

"Anyway." Henry pressed on, sighing heavily. "Some punk held up a bank and got away with a lot of money. They were offering a 5,000 reward for any information that led to discovering the money or the identity of the thief."

"And you figured it out, Dad?" Shawn asked. "You solved the case?"  
"I thought I did…" Henry sighed. "I thought they buried it on the beach. Where else would you hide loot from a heist? I thought I could claim the reward money…so I borrowed Dad's shovel and spent the day digging in the sand. I never found anything."

"It was as close as he ever came to building a sandcastle." Grandpa added.

"And if he found the loot, he was actually going to turn it into the proper authorities!" Jack laughed, punching Henry in the arm.

"I was going to claim the reward." Henry countered. "That's why I was looking for it."

"Did they ever find it, Dad?" Shawn asked.

"Nope." Henry shook his head. "They never did."

"Then it's still out there somewhere?" Shawn gasped, his eyes growing faraway.

Henry groaned, already seeing the plan starting to form in his son's mind.

"Shawn…it's long gone by now. It was probably never buried to begin with. I was just a kid…I thought I could make some easy money. I made a mistake. The important thing is, I learned from it. And I never made it again."

"You certainly didn't." Madeline agreed with a small, sympathetic smile. "And you've never let yourself live it down."

"So, that's where I get it from." Jack concluded, clapping his brother on the back. "I get it all from my big brother."

"I didn't become a treasure hunter, Jackie." Henry shot back. "I became a cop. Why couldn't you get _that_ from me?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Get in." Juliet ordered, opening the car door and ushering her son inside.

"But, Moooooom!" He protested, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes as he bounced into the back seat.

"No!" She snapped, slamming the door behind him and getting into the driver's seat. "Not this time! You're in _big_ trouble, Kid!"

"But it's not my fault!"

"Yes, it is! You were cheating!"

"I wasn't cheating!" He insisted, buckling his seatbelt as they pulled out of the school parking lot. "It's not my fault I memorized the answers!"

"What about _selling_ the answers to your classmates?" She shot back, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. "Was that not your fault, either?"

"Uh…" he stammered, fiddling with the buckle clasp so he could avoid her gaze.

"How much were you charging them?" Juliet pressed on.

He just shrugged, still staring at the buckle.

"I dunno…"

"Tell me. Now."

"Five bucks."

She groaned and rolled her eyes.

"What would your dad say if he knew?"

"That I could have gotten ten?"

Juliet shot him a warning glare in the mirror, but he just returned it with an innocent, impish grin.

She laughed and shook her head, her face softening as she saw Shawn staring back at her in her son's shining, mischievous hazel eyes.

"Okay, fine…that's what Dad would say." She conceded. "But what would Grandpa Henry say?"

That did the trick. He gasped, suddenly looking truly horrified.

"You're not going to tell Grandpa, are you?" He pleaded. "Please don't tell Grandpa! He won't take me fishing if he knows I got in trouble!"

"That's up to your dad." She told him, looking down at her watch as she pulled into a parking space in front of Psych. "I'm supposed to be at a crime scene right now. Since _you_ can't go back to school today, you're staying here until I get off."

"Can't I come look at the dead body with you?"

"No! You're being punished, remember?"

"You do know Dad and Uncle Gus have a pinball machine here, right…?" He snorted, crossing his arms.

Juliet considered this for a moment before finally getting out of the car.

"They also have the History Chanel." She told him, opening his door and shooing him out of the car. "I'll make you watch a boring documentary with Uncle Gus. Get in there!"

"Not the History Chanel!" He moaned, walking ahead of his mother with the piteous air of someone who had just been sentenced to death.

Shawn and Gus were at the pinball machine when they walked in.

When he saw his wife, Shawn quickly stepped back from it, clearing his throat guiltily.

"Hi, Jules…we were working. Really!"

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Kid." Shawn grinned, tousling his son's hair. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"I was framed!" He insisted quickly, before Juliet could jump in with her version of the story. "I'm an innocent victim, Dad! It's a conspiracy! The principal hates me!"

Juliet glared at him.

"History Chanel." She ordered, pointing emphatically at the other room. "Now!"

"You were serious?"

"Yes. Move!"

He groaned and trudged into the other room slowly, as if he was taking his final steps.

"And no pinball!" She called after him.

"History Chanel?" Gus repeated, eagerly following him into the adjoining room. "I think that documentary about the Aztecs is on…I've been wanting to see it."

When they were finally alone, Shawn turned to his wife.

"No pinball?" He asked, looking hurt. "What could he possibly have done to deserve having his pinball rights revoked? Start a riot in the lunchroom or something?"  
"He was cheating!" Juliet told him. "He memorized all the answer keys to every test, and he was selling them to his classmates for five bucks a pop!"  
"Five?" Shawn snorted. "With this economy…he could've gotten ten easy!"

"That's not the point!" Juliet snapped, smacking Shawn in the arm.

"What?" Shawn laughed, shrugging. "He's a kid. It's not his fault he has a photographic memory. It's a gift."

"I know it's a gift, Shawn." She sighed, sitting down. "But you need to talk to him about using it for good and not evil!"

"Okay, okay…" he grinned impishly, just like his son. "I will. No more evil photographic memory use. From now on, he'll only use it to solve world hunger."

She laughed despite herself, already feeling every trace of irritation flow out of her body.

"I'm serious, Shawn."

"I know. So am I. I'll talk to him."

"Good."

She stood up and walked to the door.

"Of course…" he added just as she was about to leave. "We _could_ just sick Grandpa Henry on him…you know how Grandpa Henry loves a good lecture."

"You'd do that to your own son?"

Shawn grinned.

"Hey…it's _his_ gift. We have photographic memory, he has Super Lecture."


	5. Chapter 5

The timer on the oven went off. As Henry crossed the kitchen to check on the turkey, he tossed his brother the potato masher.

"Get mashing," he ordered, gesturing at the pot of potatoes on the stove.

Jack rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He poured some milk into the pot and mashed silently for a few moments before glancing over at his brother, who was bending over, peering into the oven.

An evil grin crossed Jack's face as he looked back down at the masher in his hand, which was now covered in potatoes and milk.

"Hey, Henry," he asked, his eyes glinting with evil intent. "Do you remember Thanksgiving at Grandma's house when we were kids?"

"Yeah," Henry grunted, his back still turned to his brother. "Why?"

"Do you remember helping her make dinner?"

"Yeah…"

"Do you remember Potato Ball?"

Henry suddenly spun around, realizing with horror what his brother was thinking.

"Don't even think about it, Jackie," he growled, glaring across the kitchen at his brother, who was still grinning broadly.

"Why not?" he laughed, raising the masher over his head, poised to fling the potatoes at a moment's notice. "We used to do this all time!"  
"No," Henry snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "_You_ used to do it, and I'd clean up after you. I spent hours scraping potatoes off the ceiling!"

"There you go again," Jack clucked, shaking his head from side to side disapprovingly. "Making it sound like it was all my fault. You could throw a pretty good potato ball yourself, Henry."

"I never played Potato Ball!"

"I think Grandma's broken serving dish would disagree," Jack snorted, crossing his arms across his chest, leaving a smear of potato on his sleeve as the masher grazed it.

Henry's jaw clenched, but after a moment he grinned ever-so-slightly.

"You ducked," he muttered bitterly.

"I know," Jack grinned back, lowering his weapon. "That was when you taught me the penny thing. You said there wasn't enough luck in all the pennies on earth to save our asses when Dad found out."

"And I was right," Henry insisted, closing the oven again and walking back over to the counter alongside his brother. "Until you came up with some story about pirates breaking in and destroying the dish. You made him laugh so hard he forgot he was pissed off at us."

Jack just shrugged, leaning against the counter as he tossed the potato masher back into the pot.

"I make my own luck. I don't need the pennies."

"I know."

Jack opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly stopped when something in the living room caught his attention.

Henry turned his head and peered out the kitchen door, trying to follow his brother's line of sight, but all he saw were the backs of Madeline and Grandpa's heads as they sat on the couch, watching the parade on TV.

"I'm gonna hit the head," Jack murmured, suddenly walking out the door and running up the stairs.

Henry sighed, shaking his head as he picked up the masher and continued making the potatoes.

Something was going on with Jack.

He didn't know what it was…_yet_…but one thing was for damn sure.

He was definitely sleeping with a gun under his pillow tonight.

When Shawn came out of the bathroom, Uncle Jack was waiting for him in the hallway.

"Hey, Shawny," he grinned, keeping his voice quiet.

"Hi," Shawn replied, waving but not stopping.

"I didn't just bring you a penny, you know," Uncle Jack called after him just as he reached the top of the stairs.

Shawn turned back around slowly.

"What else did you bring me?" he asked, his eyes growing wide with excitement.

Jack looked both ways, as if there were enemy spies around who were desperate to steal his secret, then slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather pouch.

"Here," he grinned, tossing it to his nephew. Shawn quickly opened it. Inside were six tiny, white balls that looked something like little marbles.

"What are they?" he asked as he held up them up to the light. "Beads?"

"Pearls," Jack whispered, kneeling next to him. "Real ones. I want you to hold onto them for me."

"Really?" Shawn gasped. "Thanks, Uncle Jack!"

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "Why don't you go put them in your room? You don't want to lose them. That's real Incan treasure you're holding there."

"Wow!" Shawn gasped, dropping them back into the pouch and running back to his bedroom. "Wait until Gus hears I have real treasure!"

Jack grinned as Shawn disappeared down the hall, then turned around to head back downstairs. Grandpa was coming up them, watching Shawn head into his room.

"What did you give him?" he asked, stopping when he reached the landing. "I heard you say something about Incan treasure."

"Nothing," Jack shrugged, trying to step around his father. But Grandpa wasn't buying it.

"Come on, Jack," he sighed, gently pushing his son back from the stairs. "Tell me."

"It's nothing, Dad! Really!"

Grandpa met Jack's eyes, searching them for the truth.

"When Henry find out about whatever it is--" he started, but Jack already knew where he was going.

"I know," he grinned. "There won't be enough luck in all the pennies on earth to save my ass."


	6. Chapter 6

"Uncle Jack, can I have the potatoes?" Shawn asked, his mouth already full of turkey and cranberries as he pointed at the bowl of mashed potatoes that was sitting across the table directly in front of his uncle.

Jack passed them to his nephew, grinning slyly as he glanced at Henry out of the corner of his eye. "Did I ever teach you how to play Potato Ball?" he asked.

"No…" Shawn shook his head, intrigued. "What's Potato Ball?"

"Oh, God, Jack!" Grandpa groaned, laughing as he rolled his eyes. "Don't start with Potato Ball again! You and Henry did enough damage with that when you were kids!"

"What's Potato Ball?" Shawn asked again, looking around at all three adult as the table, doubly interested in this game now that it appeared to be both banned and potentially destructive.

"Knock it off, Jackie," Henry growled, passing the peas to his father. "You're not teaching Shawn Potato Ball."

"Why not?" Jack laughed. "He'll pick it up quickly. It only took me an afternoon to teach him how to hotwire a car last time I was in town."

"You taught him how to do _what?_" Henry almost exploded, dropping his fork on the plate.

"Oh, come on." Jack shrugged, snatching a roll out of the bread bowl and tossing it up in the air, catching it neatly with one hand. "It's a valuable life-skill. Do you have any idea how many times hotwiring a car has saved my butt?"

"I don't care, Jack! Don't teach my son how to hotwire!"

Grandpa rolled his eyes, pushing back from the table and slowly standing up. "Who wants some wine?" he mumbled, walking back towards the kitchen.

"Oh, _that's_ a great idea!" Madeline called after him, laughing. "Let's introduce alcohol into the situation!"

"But what's Potato Ball?" Shawn demanded for the third time, not caring that his father and his uncle were currently locked in a stare-down.

"Nothing," Jack shrugged, finally just dropping the whole issue. "I'll teach it to you later, Kid."

"You can tell me about it when we go fishing tomorrow!" Shawn told him, a brilliant idea occurring to him. "Dad's taking me fishing tomorrow…do you want to come, too, Uncle Jack? He can come, too, right, Dad?"

Henry shrugged impassively, a look passing between him and his brother. "There's room in the boat," he mumbled. "Dad's coming, too."

"Sure," Jack mumbled back, returning Henry's unaffected shrug. "I'll come, Shawny. Why not?"

"Yea!" Shawn cheered happily. "And you can put the worm on the hook for me…because that's just gross."

Jack laughed. "Oh, yeah, Henry." he grinned sarcastically. "You're really rubbing off on the kid."

"Shut up, Jackie." Henry muttered.

Grandpa came back into the dining room at that moment, carrying an unopened bottle of wine. "I couldn't find the corkscrew, Mad," he said, placing it on the table as he sat back down.

"I saw it earlier." Jack said, quickly jumping up before Madeline could move. "I'll get it."

He practically ran into the kitchen before anyone could tell him to sit back down. Henry glanced at his wife questioningly, but she just shrugged.

"Actually," she spoke up a minute later, gently folding her napkin and dropping it next to her plate as she pushed back from the table. "You just brought the red out. There was a bottle of white I wanted to open…I'll just grab it."

She walked into the kitchen, feeling Henry's eyes following her every movement as she crossed the room.

She didn't look back at him.

Jack was heading out the back door when she walked in. He quickly let it slam shut behind him when he saw her.

"Hey," he cleared his throat guiltily, gesturing at the corkscrew on the counter in the center of the room. "I found it."

"I see that."

She crossed to the counter and picked it up, then hung up the phone, which was laying off the hook on the counter.

"What's going on, Jack?" she asked quietly.

He took a step away from the door towards her, grinning. "Don't worry, Mad. I wasn't calling another woman. You know you're the only girl for me."

"Knock it off," she ordered sternly, for once not laughing at his quip. "Just tell me the truth. For once. What the hell is going on with you?"

His grin faded as his eyes met hers and he saw the concern written in her expression.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"Mad--"

"Jack." She cut him off sharply, not about to listen to another one of his stories. "I don't want to hear anything but the absolute truth."

He sighed, looking behind him at the kitchen door, making sure no one else was in ear-shot, then came back in. "It's nothing," he assured her. "I just hit a snag with one of my partners…we don't see eye-to-eye on a fifty-fifty split. The moron thinks fifty percent is half!" he snorted and laughed, but the laughter quickly died in his throat when Madeline's face just grew more somber.

"It's not a big deal," he promised. "Really."

"Is he after you?" she asked, not about to let him off the hook without a full explanation.

Jack just shrugged. "Yeah."

"Is that why you're back in town?"

"Yeah."

She sighed, resting her hands against the counter. "You were leaving again. Weren't you? And you weren't even going to tell us. You were just going to walk away and not look back."

"I don't have a choice, Mad," he shook his head slowly, walking back towards the door. "He caught up with me. And I really don't have time to waste listening to an hour-long Henry lecture. I have to get out of here. Fast."

Madeline put the corkscrew down and came around the counter. "Do you have any idea what my life will be like for the next two months if you just walk out that door without so much as a goodbye? If you just disappear again."

For once, Jack didn't have a response, so Madeline just pushed on. "I'll tell you what my life will be like, Jack, because it's the same every time you do this. Henry won't sleep for two months, which means _I_ won't sleep for two months. Of course, he won't admit the reason he isn't sleeping is because he's wondering if his little brother is alive. He'll just complain constantly about anything and everything except what's really bothering him, which means I'll have to hear about anything and everything except what's really bothering him."

She paused for a moment, taking a step towards him. "And you just told Shawn you were going fishing with them tomorrow, which means I'm going to have to see the look on his face when he finds out you lied. Again. Henry will cover for you because he always covers for you, but it's still going to hurt him, Jack. You're his uncle. He wants to be just like you."

"What do you want from me?" Jack asked, spreading his arms helplessly. "I don't have a choice, Mad. If I don't get out of here, he's going to come looking for me."

She shook her head. "Then just go, Jack."

He turned back to the door, looking over his shoulder one last time before opening it and stepping outside. "Tell Shawny I'll be back."

"He knows," she smiled. "You always come back…eventually."


	7. Chapter 7

Shawn awoke with a start later that night, suddenly aware there was someone else in the room with him. He could see the shadowy figure on the other side of the room, standing over his dresser.

His eyes grew wide in terror as the figure opened the drawer with a quiet squeak. He pulled the blankets up around his chin, taking a deep breath as he prepared to scream for his dad.

"Be quiet, Kid," the voice hissed as the figure turned around to face him. "Are you trying to get me killed? You know your dad sleeps with a gun under his pillow, right?"

Shawn closed his mouth, reaching over and flipping on the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed. "Uncle Jack?" he grinned as the room was flooded with the pale light. "You're back!"

Jack returned the grin, leaving the dresser drawer hanging open as he walked over to the bed, perching on the edge by Shawn's feet.

"I always come back."

"I know," Shawn nodded, still looking confused. "But Dad said you had an emergency. You didn't even have pie! Is that why you're back? For pie?" Shawn's face broke into a wide grin. "Oh! And you can come fishing with us now!"

Jack sighed, laughing quietly. "I can't stay, Kid."

Shawn sat up, drawing his arms around his knees, looking wounded. "Then why did you come back?"

Jack stood back up, walking over to the dresser again. "Remember those pearls I gave you?" he asked, rummaging through Shawn's socks.

"Uh-huh."

"I need them back, Kid. Something's come up. Where'd you put them?"

Shawn blinked in surprise at the directness of the question, but opened the drawer of the nightstand and tossed his uncle the small, leather pouch.

Jack grinned as he caught it in one hand, quickly dumping the pearls out and counting them. "Thanks, Shawny," he mumbled, heading for the window, dropping a penny on the sill. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay…" Shawn agreed, looking up at his fleeing uncle. "And next time, can I keep what you bring me?"

Jack sighed, turning back around.

"You still have that penny, right?" he asked

"Yeah…but it's just a penny. Dad said it's not even worth double its face value."

"Not monetarily, no." Jack admitted, walking back over to the bed, standing up by his nephew's head. "But you know the pennies I leave are lucky, right?"

"Really?" Shawn gasped.

"Of course!" Jack snorted, pocketing the pouch. "You don't really think I'd leave you a non-lucky penny, do you?"

"No."

"Of course I wouldn't!" Jack promised, winking as his nephew as he opened the window again. "Just keep it with you and all my luck will rub off on you. Okay?"

"Okay," Shawn nodded, waving as his uncle stepped out the window onto the roof. "But next time, go fishing with us, okay?"

"I will," Jack promised, disappearing into the night. "I will."


End file.
